What the Swallow Sang: A Novel

by Friedrich Spielhagen

CHAPTER XIV.

"The better it will be," repeated Gotthold, as he strode through the dark forest. For whom--for me? My fate is decided. For her? What is it to her whether I come or go? For him? If he only wanted my money and not me, why didn't he say so long ago? I have offered it to him often enough--perhaps not plainly enough; I could not make up my mind to speak more distinctly; it seemed like trying to buy the husband's permission to remain near the wife. Why has he not wanted it? Doesn't he believe in my sincerity? Is he too proud to take it from me? And yet who should give to him more willingly than I? It is the only thing I can do for her. Perhaps that is all they need to make them perfectly happy; perhaps his love is of the kind that only thrives in the sunlight of prosperity, and languishes sadly in the mists of care. We will succor this feeble love. That will bring the roses back to her cheeks, and she will laugh happily again as she used to do in the old days.

I play no very brilliant part in the family drama; but when was the rôle of third person conspicuous or grateful? Poor, poor old man! What must he not have suffered! What must he not suffer still! But he was not guiltless, no, not guiltless! Only falsehood is sin, not truth. The marriage bond between Adolf Wenhof and Ulrica von Dahlitz, as it was brought about by a lie, was and remained a lie. She loved another, and this other came; she saw that he loved her still as he had always loved her; in an hour of intoxication, after so many years of torture, she became his; she was his wife before her own conscience; she ought also to have become so in the sight of man. It was a twofold, threefold, thousandfold lie that she did not do so, that she did not break off the old life and suffer a new one to begin that very hour! In consequence of this lie, she, the proud, beautiful woman, sank into an early grave! He has vainly sought through all these endless years to atone for his crime--the crime of having thrust truth from his threshold and permitted falsehood to cross it! Holy genius of mankind, thou who livest in the light of truth, save me from the greatest of all sins; save me from falsehood!

A dark figure came hastily across the glade near the edge of the forest, through which the path ran. When it approached a little nearer, Gotthold recognized old Statthalter Möller, who now raised both arms, exclaiming:

"Thank God, here you are! You've given us a fine fright!"

"I? Whom? How?"

"You, to be sure, you! And whom? All of us, up to our mistress, who is perfectly beside herself! How? Well, that's a pretty question! When a man rows out to sea in such a nutshell of a boat, with a horrible thunderstorm rising, and that old blockhead of a Christian sees it, and thinks: Well, I'm curious to see how he gets back; but isn't at all curious, goes into the forest, and waits till the storm is over, and then about half an hour ago sends his boy to say: the boat hasn't come back yet, and may not some accident have happened to the gentleman? Lord, there was a pretty piece of business then! And our mistress must have been very much frightened, for she came running out at once, and started us off. The mistress is not to be trifled with when she is in earnest, kind as she is; and we all got frightened too, and some have gone down to Ralow, thinking you might have been driven in there; and some to Neuhof, and I was just going to the beach-house to ask the old gentleman, who has probably come back to-day, what we should do next. The mistress wanted to go herself, but I wouldn't let her."

"Where is the mistress?"

"She is probably still in the field," said Möller, pointing to the left; "I have just left her."

"And how long have the others been gone?"

"As long as I have; if I hurry, I shall probably overtake them."

Statthalter Möller struck into the forest on the right, shouting the names of the laborers, while Gotthold hastily walked on by the path, which in a few moments brought him to the edge of the forest, where an old beech-tree stood alone in the open field, upon which the moon shed a dim, fitful light through the rifts in the heavy black clouds. It was the rye-field, which they had been reaping that day. A loaded wagon was just starting, and men were still working around a few others, but, as it seemed to Gotthold, rather lazily; he heard the voices of the men raised in eager conversation, and saw that they were standing in little groups between the sheaves, several rows of which extended along the edge of the forest. The thought that such important work had been interrupted or carried on less zealously on his account was unpleasant to Gotthold, and he hurried towards the workmen. He had not perceived Cecilia, although he could see the whole field with tolerable distinctness; she had probably gone back to the house again.

But as he approached the beech-tree, a white figure which had been sitting with its face buried in its hands, and was now startled by his hasty steps, rose from the circular bench that surrounded the huge trunk.

"In Heaven's name, Möller, have you returned already? Is he--"

"It is I myself; Cecilia, dear, dearest Cecilia!"

"Gotthold!"

She had thrown herself into his arms; he held the pliant figure which clung closer and closer to him in an ardent embrace; her soft lips quivered against his in a long, tremulous, passionate kiss.

"Is that you?" said Carl Brandow's voice suddenly, close beside them.

It seemed as if he had sprung from the earth; doubtless the sheaves, the last of which stood partly under the ends of the drooping boughs of the beech-tree, had concealed his approach, but in the shadow of its foliage probably nothing but Cecilia's light dress had been visible to the new-comer. Yet, in Gotthold's sensitive mood, the man's loud laugh had a horrible sound, and his clear voice a disagreeably shrill tone never heard before, as, flourishing his riding-whip in the air, according to his custom, he cried: "I have heard all; I always say: Don't turn your back, something always happens which wouldn't have occurred otherwise. I shouldn't have let you go on such a wild-goose chase, any more than I would have commenced reaping at the end next the barn. What will become of this stuff if it should begin to rain again, as there is every appearance of its doing, and rain all day to-morrow? In that case we can take it to the manure heap, instead of the barn; nobody will come here with a wagon for a week, and it will have sprouted long before then."

"It isn't so bad after all, sir," said Statthalter Möller, who had just come up with the men he had overtaken in the forest. "We haven't any more room in the barn; we'll put up a cover here, and then it will be all right."

"Of course, you always know better than I!" exclaimed Brandow.

"I wanted to begin by the barn; but Hinrich Scheel wouldn't allow it, and said you yourself--"

"Oh! of course I did it myself; I'm always to blame when you idiots have done anything stupid!"

It was not the first time that Gotthold had heard Carl Brandow scold his workmen in this way; but never had the cause been so frivolous, and the wrong so clearly on his own side. Gotthold had himself heard him, as he rode away that morning, call to Hinrich Scheel that they were to begin the reaping at the upper end of the field by the forest. Was he drunk? Had he seen more than he wished to have known? Did he want to wreak his jealous fury on the innocent workmen? Or was this merely the preamble, and a test to see whether, in the explanation which must take place immediately, he would adopt the tone of an injured, insulted man?

Gotthold did not fear this explanation; his only dread was that it might take place in Cecilia's presence. He wished his loved one to be away, and moreover he felt the necessity of hearing one word from her to assure him that all this was no confused dream, but reality; that in the kiss which still trembled on his lips she had given herself to him, that he might venture to act, decide for her.

But the fear of provoking an outbreak from Brandow made him timid and awkward; she shrank away, actuated by the same feeling; and he did not succeed in carrying out his intention on the way home. Brandow walked between them; he was obliged to relate his adventure, and Brandow railed at Cousin Boslaf, who was always everywhere, from whom one wasn't safe even when on the water, and who had undoubtedly arranged the whole scene, including the thunder-storm and all its appurtenances, in order to be able to save something again. Under other circumstances Gotthold would not have allowed such sarcasms, which Brandow accompanied with sneering laughter, to pass unanswered; but now he must be suffered to say what he chose. Then the latter clapped him on the shoulder, crying: "No offence, Gotthold; but I can't bear the old sneak, and have my own reasons for it. Either a man is master of his house, or he isn't; to have a third party, who is always interfering everywhere, and of course always thinks he knows best, would not do, at least not for me. As we used to say at school, 'One king, one ruler!' You probably remember the Greek words too; I, poor devil, am glad I happened to keep the German ones."

They reached the house. Gotthold could not shake off Brandow, who detained him before the door in conversation about some agricultural matter, while Cecilia entered. Hinrich Scheel came up and complained of the Statthalter, who had ordered even the carriage-horses to be harnessed to the wagons. Brandow flew into a furious passion; Gotthold murmured something about being obliged to change his clothes, and slipped into the house. But he found no one in the sitting-room except pretty Rieke, who was setting the tea-table, and looked roguishly at him out of the corners of her eyes while he glanced over the newspaper which lay on the table before the sofa. The girl went out, but came back immediately, and pretended to be doing something in the closet; she evidently intended to remain in the room. Gotthold now went up to his chamber, and changed his clothes, which had been only partially dried in the beach-house. As he performed the task, his trembling hands almost refused to obey his bidding. Was it the fever of impatience before the final decision, or was it actual sickness, brought on by over-exertion during the storm? "Don't be sick now," he murmured; "now of all times! Now, when you no longer belong to yourself, when you owe your life, your every breath, your every drop of blood to her!"

Brandow's voice echoed from the lower floor in loud, angry tones. Was he talking to Cecilia? Had the rage, perhaps repressed with difficulty till now, burst forth? Was the drama to be played before the servants?

In the twinkling of an eye Gotthold had left his room, crossed the long dark entry, and gone down-stairs. But fortunately his fear had been groundless. Cecilia had sent word that she felt tired, and should not come to supper. Then why couldn't they have set the table in his room on the other side of the hall, where they would be undisturbed and disturb no one? Would Rieke never have any sense? Rieke answered pertly, as she reluctantly obeyed the command, that she wished other people's sense was as good as hers; who was to know what to do when one order was given one minute, and another the next! Brandow told her to be silent. The girl laughed scornfully: Oh! of course it was very convenient to forbid people to open their mouths, but it wouldn't do in the long run, and if she wanted to speak she would speak, and then other people would have to hold their tongues.

"Leave the room," shouted Brandow furiously.

The girl answered with a still more impudent laugh, and then left the apartment, banging the door after her.

"That's what one gets for being too indulgent," cried Brandow, swallowing at a single gulp a glass of wine which he had poured out with an unsteady hand.

He cast a sly glance at Gotthold, who looked him steadily in the face. What did this scene mean? What could the girl tell, if she chose to speak? Had she claims upon her master which he was obliged to acknowledge? Had a weapon unexpectedly fallen into his hands which might be of use to him in this hour? An ignoble weapon indeed; but perhaps not too much so for a conflict with a man who, while the husband of such a wife, did not disdain the servant.

Yet Gotthold said to himself that he would not begin the quarrel, but, if possible, defer it until he had come to some understanding with Cecilia about the next step to be taken. And it seemed possible; nay, Gotthold soon became doubtful whether Brandow at most had anything more than a vague suspicion, to which he either could not or dared not give expression. Perhaps he wished to increase his courage by drink, for he now drained glass after glass, and brought one bottle of old wine after another from his sleeping-room; perhaps he wanted to give vent to his powerless anger, in some degree at least, when he railed at Cousin Boslaf, the old sneak who had perfectly disgusted him with life by his perpetual interference, until he at last forbade him the house; and then spoke once more of his miserable circumstances, as he called them, for which, however, he was less to blame than some other people.

"True," he exclaimed, "I have spent more on my journeys than tailors and glove-makers do; I have lived in a manner befitting a gentleman, but the principal cause of my disgraceful situation is my marriage. Of course you look incredulous; you would like, as an old ally of the Wenhofs, to contradict me; it would be useless; I know too well how all this has come about. I will say nothing about the noble Curt--the few college debts I was obliged to pay for him were a mere bagatelle; but the old man, who was by no means so old as not to have a damned good relish for the pleasant things of this world--the old man was not a particularly desirable father-in-law. I even had to pay for the wedding outfit, but--good heavens--at such a time a man would bring the stars from the sky to adorn his beloved; so I wouldn't have minded advancing the money for the few trinkets and other things, if that had been the end of it. But unfortunately that was not the case. I gave my father-in-law ten thousand thalers in cash during the two years he lived, and was obliged to pay at least as much in debts after his death. That's a pretty good bit of money, mon cher, when a man has no more than enough for himself; and so my beautiful Dahlitz went to the devil, and I was glad to be able to creep into Dollan for shelter, and some day Dollan will go to the devil too; for a man can't keep the best farm in the world nowadays, unless he has property of his own, and the prudent Brothers of the Convent of St. Jurgen have kept me as short as my father-in-law, who could never get the better of them. But what am I thinking of, to be entertaining such a distinguished gentleman with this rubbish! You can't help me, and if you could, a man doesn't allow himself to be helped by his good friends--he applies to his good enemies."

Brandow laughed loudly, and starting up, paced hastily up and down the room with an agitated air, and at last stopped before the closet containing his weapons, pulled a pistol from its nail, cocked it, and turning towards Gotthold, cried:

"Only, unfortunately, the good friends are often the same as the good enemies, so that one can't separate them. Don't you think so!"

"It may happen so," said Gotthold quietly; "but you would do better to hang up the pistol again; your hand is too unsteady for such tricks to-night; some accident might occur."

Gotthold was determined not to enter upon an explanation with the half-intoxicated man this evening, under any circumstances; and equally determined not to yield to his threats, if this was intended for one, and permit the ransom money to be extorted, which he must pay if he wished to leave the place without any further difficulty.

The expression of calm decision upon the grave countenance of his guest had not escaped Brandow; he let the half-raised weapon fall, laid it aside, came back to the table, threw himself into his chair, and said:

"You are right! Some accident might happen; but no one would care, and, after all, it would only be consistent if I should put a bullet through my brain. You are a lucky fellow. You have been obliged to work from your early youth, and so have learned a great deal; now a great fortune, more than you can use, comes to you without the least trouble. I have never worked, have learned nothing, and I lose a property without which I am nothing, less than nothing: the jest of all who have known me, a scarecrow to the gay birds I have hitherto equalled or excelled, and who now leave the poor plucked crow to his fate. Death and the devil!"

He dashed his glass down upon the table so violently that it broke.

"Oh, pshaw! the matter is not worth getting into a passion about. Everything must have an end, and however they may jeer at me, nobody can say I have not enjoyed life. I have drunk the best wine, ridden the fastest horses, and kissed the prettiest women. You are a connoisseur too, Gotthold; you have done just the same in your quiet way, of course. Yes, you were always a sly-boots, and I had a cursed respect for your cunning, even in our school-days. Well, no offence; I am not very stupid, and clever people, like you and me, always get along together; it's only dunces who quarrel--dunces, silly boys, as we were then. Do you remember? Tierce, quart, quart, tierce! Ha! ha! ha! That wouldn't suit us now. Touch glasses, old boy, and drink! Drink to good fellowship!"

And he held out his brimming glass.

"My glass is empty," said Gotthold; "and so is the bottle. Let us go to bed; we have drunk more than enough."

He left the room before Brandow, who was staring at him with eyeballs starting from his head, could reply.

As the door closed behind him, Brandow made a spring like that of a wild beast after its prey, and then paused in the middle of the room, showing his white teeth, and shaking his clenched fists at the door.

"Cursed scoundrel! I'll have your blood, drop by drop; but first I'll have your money!"

His uplifted arms fell; he tottered to the table, and sat there supporting his burning head in his hands, gnawing his lips with his sharp teeth till the blood sprang through the skin, mentally heaping crime upon crime, but none would lead him to his goal. Suddenly he started up and a hoarse laugh burst forth. So it should be! She, she herself must ask him, and that was the way to force her to do so! Vengeance, full vengeance, and no danger, except that the servant might chatter! She had already threatened to do so several times, and to-day had been more impudent than ever; but all must be accomplished to-morrow, and to-night was available for many things.

That night--he did not know how late it was, for he had lain there fully dressed, with throbbing temples, awake, and yet as if in some wild dream, falling from the heights of more than earthly bliss into the depths of helpless anxiety and dread--that very night Gotthold heard above the rustling of the foliage before his window, and the plashing of the rain against the panes, a sound which made him start from his bed, and, holding his breath, listen intently. The noise was like a scream, a woman's scream, and could only have come from the chamber below him, where Cecilia slept alone with her child. He reached the window at a single bound. The wind and rain beat into his face, but above the wind and rain he distinctly heard Brandow's voice, now louder and now lower, as a man speaks who is carried away by passion, and then violently forces himself to be calm. At intervals he thought he distinguished her voice; but perhaps it was only his fancy, excited to madness, which filled the pauses in which he did not hear the voice of the man he hated. A conjugal scene in the chamber of the wife, who cannot, must not lock her door; who must hear the wild words of the furious drunken husband, and has nothing to oppose to his fury save her tears!

"And she bears it, must bear it! Must wring her hands helplessly! This is bitterer than death!" 'murmured Gotthold. "Why didn't I speak? All might now have been decided! Is not keeping silence when one ought to speak also a lie, a cruel, horrible lie, and must falsehood be spoken by the good as well as the bad? To-morrow, if to-morrow were only here, if such a night can have a morrow."

He threw himself on his bed, moaning and sobbing, and buried his head in the pillows, then started up again. Was not that a step moving slowly and cautiously over the floor? Was any one coming to him with a murderous weapon? Thank God!

Gotthold sprang to the door and tore it open. Everything was silent--silent and dark. The stairs from below led directly up the middle of the entry, between the two gables; the cautious step he had heard was not on his side, and had undoubtedly gone towards the other, where, opposite to his room, were two smaller chambers, one of which, on the left, stood empty, and the other was occupied by pretty Rieke; for a faint light, which was quickly extinguished, now gleamed through a crack in the door of the right-hand room, and through the deep stillness came a laugh, instantly hushed, as if a hand had been suddenly placed over the laughing lips.

Gotthold shut the door; he wished to see and hear no more.